


Soft Blood

by meanderingmirth



Series: Five Days of Dark Concepts [3]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Futuristic!AU, M/M, more warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingmirth/pseuds/meanderingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ROVIX Program (Reconstructed Organic Vessels for Interpersonal Xtensions) might have been Wonshik’s unparalleled brainchild, but when he created it he didn’t expect the government to coerce him into using his research to create new, biologically superior limbs so that a retired secret ops. captain could to return to battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Day three of the Dark Concept theme! warnings for violence and brief mentions of amputations. Unlike the first two fics, this story is told from Ravi’s perspective instead of Leo’s. This one is also weirdly longer than the rest... (and it’s Error-inspired)
> 
> it's almost Leo's birthday and comeback too, that's exciting~
> 
> enjoy!

Wonshik was convinced the sound of the humming fans mounted into the high ceiling of his underground workshop was going to drive him insane. 

He dragged the palm of his hand down his face as his tired eyes scanned the lines of code streaming down the four computer screens in front of him, upsetting the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. Stubble scratched against his fingers and he could feel the grime on his skin rub off and peeling like a second layer, all of it a direct result of pulling three all-nighters in a row without showering in between. He smelled  _awful_.

The soft ‘ding!’ of the elevator across the room was the only warning he had before the metal doors slid open and Wonshik was, for the first time in a week, with company.

He scrambled to sit upright in his seat, trying to straighten papers and stash the five empty and unwashed coffee mugs under the desk before anybody could see. But Jung Taekwoon had already rounded around the corner, gliding to a halt in front of Wonshik’s workspace on his wheelchair.

“C-captain Jung,” Wonshik stammered, leaping out of his seat to acknowledge the man. The action proved counterproductive, however, when the pins and needles rushing down his numb leg made him stagger into the corner of his table, wincing at the feeling. Taekwoon watching him impassively, his pale, stoic face giving nothing away as Wonshik tried to pull himself together. “H-how can I help you, s-sir?”

Taekwoon did not immediately answer. Instead, his cool, rather feline gaze travelled over the stacks of papers and files piled high on the desktop, the now-frozen codes on the computer screen, and the chalky equations and diagrams drawn on the sliding chalkboards against the walls before dropping down to the dirty mugs, much to Wonshik’s dismay.

“I was told by the higher ups to provide you a copy of my updated biostatics and scans,” Taekwoon finally said, and seemed to materialize a slim black folder from thin air. He held it out to Wonshik, who took it with hands that trembled from a combination of nervousness and fatigue. Flipping it open, he quickly registered the fundamentals: notes on Taekwoon’s overall health, fluctuations and updates on his physiotherapy reports, and the final biological stats of his amputated right arm and left leg— the body parts Wonshik had been working on for nearly two months to re-create.

“Alright,” Wonshik said, nodding to Taekwoon, who had been looking at the numbers on the screens. “Thank you for these, sir. I’ll be sure to add the additional information to the program after I finish de-bugging this set.”

Taekwoon hummed, his interest in Wonshik’s codes already waning. Instead, his eyes were now trained on two large, cylindrical tanks standing side-by-side at the other end of the workshop. Wonshik gulped as Taekwoon spun the wheelchair around and pushed himself across the room towards the tanks, and he nearly tripped over an open toolbox when he hastened to follow.

The tanks were tall, even taller than Wonshik, and had a multitude of blinking lights flickering on the mechanical lid. Thick, rubbery black tubes protruded from the cover, hung down the sides, and criss-crossed on the floor before connecting into massive boxy machines behind the tanks. Amidst the bubbling, a bastardized mixture of amniotic fluid created from Wonshik’s own chemical recipe, two artificial limbs with Taekwoon’s customized measurements and DNA were growing in the bluish liquid.

At this stage, the arm and leg were almost fully formed. Wonshik counted it as a personal win when he counted all five fingers and toes  _and_  watched them react to the complex simulations he inputed during the countless tests he ran day in and day out. The limbs still lacked the final touches of Taekwoon’s biostats that made them compatible to the recipient, but with the updated copy he’d just been given, Wonshik could envision completing this project within the next two weeks. If he didn’t sleep at any point in time, that is.

“Amazing,” Taekwoon breathed, his voice so light that Wonshik was almost sure he’d imagined it, along with the note of awe in Taekwoon’s voice. The captain turned to look at him, and Wonshik fought not to twitch under the piercing eyes. “You created this?”

“Y-yes sir,” Wonshik nodded stiffly, feeling his glasses slide down his nose. “This was a part of the ROVIX Program I created for my thesis and then developed several years before the war.”

“And yet it was never approved?” Taekwoon asked, raising an eyebrow. Wonshik lowered his gaze and bit his lower lip.

“No sir,” he said softly, the residual memories of soul-crushing disappointment still fresh within him. “Until now, that is.”

Taekwoon snorted. “I feel rather special then,” he said dryly, reaching out to brush his fingers against the cold glass of the tank holding his soon-to-be right arm.

“They’re rather intent on sending you back out into battle, sir,” Wonshik said, staring down at the scuffed-up fabric of his shoes. He really should buy a new pair, but shoes were the least of everybody’s worries in their current environment.

“Tell me, professor,” Taekwoon said suddenly, turning his wheelchair around to face Wonshik. “Have you ever been trained for the army?”

“What?” Wonshik startled, his manners flying out the window at the sudden question. “No! I, uh, no, I’ve never trained or signed up.”

“Not even through conscription?”

“I— was inducted into the government’s private research sector by the time I came of age,” Wonshik muttered, twisting his fingers together. “So I was, um, exempt.”

Taekwoon’s gaze seemed to cut right through him, and Wonshik fought not to squirm. He wouldn’t be surprised if Taekwoon harboured a grudge against him after this like many soldiers did. Wonshik had escaped a fair bit of hardship and pain under the protection of his own genius, his professorship, and the government. He’d eluded a war that ended lives and (he gulped at the thought again) took one of Taekwoon’s arms and legs as well.

“So if you’ve never been to the army, then why are you calling me sir like some fresh-faced cadet?” Taekwoon asked, and Wonshik had to take a moment to process the information through his wrung-out brain.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Quit calling me sir,” Taekwoon emphasized calmly, taking all of Wonshik’s embarrassingly delayed reactions in a stride. “I was never your commanding officer, so it doesn’t make sense for you to address me that way.”

“B-but sir,” Wonshik stammered, tripping over his own words again as he realized he said ‘sir’ again. “H-how else should I address you?”

“Just Taekwoon is fine, you know,” Taekwoon said, raising an eyebrow as Wonshik nearly spluttered.

“But that’s disrespectful to you and your rank—!”

“Rank,” Taekwoon said quietly, “Does not matter so much anymore. Have you ever wondered why they dredged back a bygone like myself back up and resurrected your rejected program?”

Wonshik’s mouth immediately pressed into a thin line. He knew, of course; how could he not?

“The young ones are all dead,” Taekwoon said, and his tone was hollow as he spoke. His eyes flickered over to the artificial limbs once more before he wheeled himself back across the workshop to the elevators at the end of the hall. “We’re the only ones left.”

Taekwoon’s voice seemed to echo across the high ceilings, leaving ghostly whispers that lingered in Wonshik’s ears as he stood rooted to his spot, hands clenched into fists by his side as the doors to the lift closed and left him in silence again.

They might be the only ones remaining, but if this dead program had somehow managed to cling to life and return to Wonshik, he really couldn’t fathom what the government might make him do with his research if this project succeeded in artificially growing body parts and got Taekwoon back out into the front lines. The thought of it made his blood go cold.

Sometimes, that fear is why it was easier to pretend that he didn’t know a thing.

+

Everybody had heard of Captain Jung Taekwoon of the secret ops. division within the government sectors, but Wonshik had never actually spoken to Taekwoon until the start of the ROVIX Program. He’d certainly seen the man while he was on active duty throughout the compound or while he was eating his meals at the communal mess hall, but Taekwoon was so removed, so cold, that Wonshik didn’t go anywhere near the man in fear of being frozen over.

Then they began to lose the war, and one by one, parts of their lives crumpled away into nothing until only a sliver of their once prosperous nation remained. Wonshik remembered the whispers slithering down the halls like a trickle of poison the day they brought back the bodies of Taekwoon’s unit and the captain himself, lying half-dead on a hospital bed with injuries too horrific to imagine.

As the end date of the project neared, Wonshi was in no way surprised that he had completely forgone sleep in favour of work. He was, however, surprised by the increase of Taekwoon’s visits to his lab, sometimes for seemingly no reason other than to watch Wonshik work. It weirded him out at first, but practicality outweighed his embarrassment, and it quickly became a norm for Taekwoon to show up out of the blue, wheel up to Wonshik’s desk and read dusty paperbacks or old mission briefings while Wonshik coded, constructed, and (on the rare occasion) cleaned.

“ ‘I like to think the moon is there even if I am not looking at it’,” Taekwoon quoted randomly once, his quiet voice surprisingly strong in the airy lab. Wonshik had barely heard the man speak over the noise of the generators he was tinkering with, but he crawled out from under the machines to answer anyway.

“Einstein?” he asked, and Taekwoon nodded, eyes fixed on the words before him.

“When was the last time you saw the moon?” the man asked Wonshik, who had to take a moment to think about his answer. 

“Probably not since I was a kid,” he admitted. Taekwoon looked rather impressed.

“How fortunate of you,” he said, tapping one of Wonshik’s pens against the open book on his lap. The captain had a habit of tying his hair back when he was reading; it was at a length Wonshik couldn’t imagine Taekwoon would’ve ever allowed it to grow to while he was still on active duty. He watched Taekwoon tuck a stray strand behind his ear, unable to stop himself from becoming distracted by the smoothness of the gesture while he spoke.

“I grew up in the outer regions,” Wonshik finally said, fiddling with the wrench in his hand. “We didn’t have enough electricity to keep the lights on all night, and the only thing that really blocked the sky out were the trees. And then, well, the ash clouds became more frequent, and I haven’t seen the moon since.”

“I can’t imagine you see much of the outdoors working for the government anyway,” Taekwoon said dryly. Wonshik shook his head and let out a tired chuckle. He sat up and wiped the grease on his hands onto his jumpsuit.

“What is it like out there now?” he asked, and Taekwoon pursed his lips.

“Dead,” Taekwoon said bluntly. “The skies are darker than ever. The air is barely breathable. Even the earth has been worn down to the rock. You’re not missing out on much.”

“Good to know,” Wonshik sighed, standing. He slid the panel back over the intricate workings of the generator and picked up his toolbox, wondering if he’d have time for a shower before he went upstairs to the final meeting before he inputed Taekwoon’s biostats for the last stage of the ROVIX Program.

+

Unsurprisingly, on day of Taekwoon’s surgery, Wonshik was the cleanest he had ever been. He sunk himself into one of the cyrogenic pods for a technologically-induced sleep the night before to ensure he had enough energy to survive the next day. When Wonshik resurfaced after the machine woke him, he ate, washed twice, shaved, and then went through another disinfectant shower before he was dressed appropriately in scrubs and entered the operating theatre.

All of the necessary equipment had been moved over the course of the week under Wonshik’s extremely watchful eye, and he couldn’t help but tremble with anticipation when he saw the assistants, bodyguards, and government officials surrounding his project, his  _life’s_  work, as it came into existence. He let out an unsteady exhale as he walked over to the two tanks holding the limbs and a gel sac, large enough to encase a grown man, held upright with a metal structure. It was filled with a mix of breathable liquid and a tweaked version of the amniotic fluid that had been growing the limbs, and that was where the surgery would primarily take place.

“Should I be worried about how badly you’re shaking, Professor?” a voice said from behind him, laced with sardonic amusement. Wonshik fought not to jump in surprise to save himself from imminent mortification, but when he turned to greet Taekwoon, he couldn’t stop the yelp of shock from escaping him anyway.

“Y-your hair!” Wonshik stammered, gesturing wildly at Taekwoon’s head. Taekwoon blinked at him, the corners of his mouth twitching, and Wonshik flushed when he realized Taekwoon was trying not to laugh at him in the room full of Very Important People. “It’s all gone,” he finished lamely, staring at the short, spiky black strands that now stuck up in a spiky mess all over Taekwoon’s head instead of the wavy curtain that used to hang down around his shoulders.

“I had indulged in my laziness during my absence from duty for too long,” Taekwoon hummed, wheeling himself right up to the gel sac. He wore a large, loose-fitting grey tee over top a pair of slim black shorts, and Wonshik’s gaze drifted down to pale, scarred thighs that flexed with hard, defined muscles when Taekwoon pushed himself to the edge of his seat. He swallowed harshly at the reminder of what all the things that were at stake.

If everything went well, the ROVIX Program would give Taekwoon back not only a leg and an arm, but ones with superior kinaesthetic functions and power.

He could not fail.

The sharp jab to his side startled him more than it actually hurt him, and Wonshik yelled in shock as he recoiled from Taekwoon’s little attack.

“Don’t be so tense, Professor,” the captain snorted as he pulled the shirt over his head, pushed himself upright and balanced on his leg as he stood poised by the side of the gel sac, where one of Wonshik’s assistants was inputting the chemical formula to dissolve the top for Taekwoon to get in. “I have faith that you won’t be turning me into some biological weapon of mass terror.”

Wonshik spluttered as Taekwoon slanted him a look. The captain’s eyes flashed darkly for a moment, and it made him shiver as a terrifying thought dawned on him as he shot a quick glance at the officials watching them on the second level balcony. Could it be...?

“I just want you to get your arm and leg back,” Wonshik said quietly, clenching his fists at his sides. Taekwoon raised an eyebrow, and Wonshik squared his shoulders.

“That’s what the ROVIX Program was created for, Taekwoon,” he insisted. “Nothing else.”

“Well said,” Taekwoon whispered, and a little smile graced his lips before he turned away from Wonshik. He ignored the assistant’s proffered hand and managed to slide into the gel sac by himself. Fluid gushed out of the opening and gloved hands immediately reached out to hold the breach closed until the chemical compound used to meld the material back together was released. Inside, Taekwoon floated in the viscous liquid, cheeks puffed out as he held his breath before he opened his mouth and breathed in. They’d gone through the procedure before the surgery many times before: Taekwoon would have to inhale the breathable liquid before they released the anesthetic and put him to sleep. It was then that Wonshik would begin to work on artificially rearranging the cells in Taekwoon’s arm and leg into accepting their new counterparts.

It was strangely comforting to see Taekwoon look so peaceful, suspended in what was essentially a giant bubble wobbling about in its support. Wonshik pressed his palms against the outer membrane, feeling it stretch over his hands and arms until it vacuumed around his limbs and encased them like a second skin, allowing him to push and reach into the gel sac to operate on Taekwoon. His assistants opened a smaller breach at the top of the gel sac, where they lowered various tools and instruments inside the sac for Wonshik when he requested them. Fluid seeped out from the opening as another attendant pumped one of the storage generators set up next to them, keeping the sac filled and Taekwoon sedated.

He could feel all the eyes in the room on his as he worked, slowly splicing open skin, muscle, tissue, fat and bone with high-tech medical instruments he’d spent months coding to operate with explicit instructions. They all wanted Wonshik to succeed, but he knew that his reasons for wanting Taekwoon to reconcile with new limbs was vastly different than the agendas the officials had for them.

It took him three hours to attach Taekwoon’s arm, and another three and a half to attach the leg.

For six hours and thirty minutes, Wonshik prayed things would be okay.

His arms felt weird without the pressure of the surrounding membrane and fluid pressing down on it when he finally withdrew his hands for good, signalling the assistant to seal the breach at the end of the surgery. A round of coldly static applause sounded throughout the lab, and as Wonshik turned to do an inventory check of his instruments, he sensed rather than saw the officials approach him.

“Splendid job, Professor Kim,” one of them said. “You’ve achieved quite a feat.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, straightening his tools unnecessarily to avoid eye contact.

“How long will it be until Captain Jung is fully functional?”

_More like how long will it be until you can throw him out into the front lines again_ , Wonshik thought, but he bit his tongue and replied, “He’ll have to remain in a sedated state within the gel sac for a minimum of five days to ensure he takes to his limbs, and from there on the time spent on sessions of physical therapy will be subjected to various factors.”

“Five days,” one of the officials exclaimed incredulously. “Are you sure it has to be that long? Can’t we wake him sooner?”

Wonshik looked up and bared his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “We cannot. It is absolutely vital that Captain Jung’s body accepts the artificial limbs. That means giving his cells time to adjust to the new addition and for the nerves to establish proper communications. Do you know what it is he is being sedated in, sir?”

“Well,” the official spluttered, and Wonshik resisted the urge to shout  _did any of you bother reading through the basics of my program?_

“Inside the sac is a very specifically tailored compound of amniotic fluid that is meant to nurture the growth and development of his limbs. If you want a better metaphor for all this, to remove him before he is ready would be synonymous to ripping a baby out of its mother months before its due date. I assume you can guess what the child’s chances of survival would be reduced to after an act like that. The sac is basically a womb, and right now, Captain Jung is growing inside of it.”

He paused for a moment to look at Taekwoon’s form, the slow rise and fall of his chest, before he smiled a little smile and added, “He is, quite literally, being reborn.”

+

After Wonshik’s little speech, they break Taekwoon out of the gel sac in exactly five days’ time. The captain was barely comprehensible of his surroundings as they wheeled him to the hospital and ran various scans and checked his vitals over and over again, but Wonshik felt a rather serene kind of calm as he worked.

Taekwoon would survive. He knew it.

Dark, expressive eyes trailed tiredly after him as Wonshik finished up the last of his tests and made a final stop at the side of Taekwoon’s bed. He smiled down at the man and retrieved a warm towel from one of the nurses, using it to carefully wipe away the matted mess of fluids gunked up into Taekwoon’s hair.

“...Pro...fessor...” Taekwoon whispered, white lips moving weakly as Wonshik gently swiped his forehead and cheeks clean.

“Quit calling me Professor,” Wonshik joked, unable to help himself. “You were never my student; it doesn’t make sense for you to address me that way.”

Taekwoon actually managed to narrow his eyes at Wonshik, who laughed before reaching down to brush his fingers against Taekwoon’s new hand, his touch exceedingly gentle. Judging from the full-body twitch and the small parting of his lips from shock, Wonshik could only imagine how stunning it must be for Taekwoon to actually  _feel_  again.

“Get some rest,” he said, smiling as he stepped back. “I’ll come to visit you later.”

+

Once Taekwoon could stay conscious for more than eight hours at a time and was given the all clear by the doctors, he was immediately swept away for physical therapy. That was, unfortunately, not a part of Wonshik’s field of work, and hence he found himself stuck in the underground lab once again, finishing the last of his documentations and records for the first successful ROVIX Program project while his thoughts inevitably drifted in all sorts of directions that had no relation to his work whatsoever.

It was another month before he saw Taekwoon again.

The soft ‘ding!’ of the elevator was his only warning before the metal doors slid open and Taekwoon was walking out of the lift, two hands tucked into the pockets of loose shorts and long strides covering the distance between him and Wonshik at the other end of the lab.

The empty mug he’d been holding slipped from his numb fingers and smashed onto the ground as watched Taekwoon come to a halt in front of him, a little smile on his lips and a lively look in his eyes.

“It worked,” Wonshik said numbly, unable to stop himself from staring.

“Of course it did,” Taekwoon said, lifting his hand out of his pocket for Wonshik to see. Five fingers waggled at him, and Wonshik thought he might cry.

“I’m so glad,” he said weakly, slumping against the side of his desk for support. “How does it feel? Are you still in therapy?”

“Therapy concluded a week ago,” Taekwoon said, smirking. “It didn’t take long for me to relearn how to use my arm and leg.”

“Is that so?” Wonshik asked in surprise. “I actually budgeted a six to seven week time slot for your recovery, but to think you’d managed it in three...”

“I believe it’s a mixture of my previous training and some very smooth genetical modification done on my limbs,” Taekwoon said, smirking. “My reflexes are still a bit off, though. Everything my arm and leg can do is a lot swifter and stronger than my other ones, so I’m strangely lopsided half the time.”

“They were grown to be physically superior,” Wonshik admitted. “Are you adjusting well, at least?”

“I am,” Taekwoon nodded. “Are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have the officials approached you yet?” Taekwoon asked, his voice dropping ever so slightly as he spoke. Wonshik straightened, chewing on his lower lip.

“Not yet,” he said lowly. “But I’ve been called into more meetings now, to discuss my program. You’d think they’d be a little more careful about revealing plans to grow genetically modified soldiers for war.”

“They’re getting cocky,” Taekwoon murmured. The serious look on his face combined with a towering height Wonshik had not known before gave the captain a very power stature. “They want to start playing god.”

“I won’t let them” Wonshik said at once. Wary anger that had been brewing inside of him rose to the surface at once. “That wasn’t what the ROVIX Program was designed for.”

“I thought not,” Taekwoon hummed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled again as he let out a little puff of air. “I am glad that it was you who operated on me,” he said. “Had it been another man with a staggering lack of morals trying to force me back into war, I’d rip my new arm and leg right back off.”

Wonshik paled. “Y-you—” he stammered, stomach sinking so fast he felt dizzy. Hands reached out and grabbed his arms, steadying him, and the look on Taekwoon’s face was full of concern.

“Hey—”

“I was under the impression that you agreed to fight,” Wonshik said faintly. His head felt very light and spots danced in his vision as he struggled to remain upright. Had he been mistaken the whole time? Was he an accomplice in all of this? “Have I— have I forced you  _back_  into the battlefield like the higher ups did?”

“You didn’t,” Taekwoon said firmly, giving Wonshik a shake. His eyes flashed as he spoke. “You gave me back my limbs because you wanted to me to use them again, not to be a pawn in the army. For that, I can accept the turn of events and fight.”

“But you’ll still have to go—” Wonshik cried, breaths coming out in ragged pants as the realization of his own work crashed over him. His head spun; how could he have been so stupid? Had he truly condemned Taekwoon and sent him back into what was essentially death row out in the field? Why didn’t he realize the gravity of his actions before it was too late?

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon said, his voice commanding as he suddenly grabbed Wonshik’s face with both hands. “Wonshik,  _breathe_.”

He fell against Taekwoon, stuttering heavily, eyes wet and shoulders shaking. Taekwoon slowly wrapped his arms around Wonshik, pulling him close into his chest as he waited for Wonshik’s breaths to even out and for his erratic heartbeat to slow.

“It’s alright,” Taekwoon said quietly. “Things are different now.”

Wonshik let out a shuddering sigh and forced his pounding heart to calm. “I don’t want you to die out there,” he admitted, and he felt Taekwoon tense around him.

“I’ll be fine,” Taekwooon assured him. “You, on the other hand, I’m worried about leaving in the compound.”

“If this is about them using my research, I’ll find a way to handle them,” Wonshik muttered, drawing back. He felt the heat rush into his cheeks as he glanced down at his feet, embarrassed over losing his composure in front of Taekwoon.

Palms cup his chin and tilted his face back up, and before Wonshik could react, Taekwoon’s face was blurring out of focus as he leaned in and kissed him.

He gasped into the kiss, shaking fingers fumbling against the sleeves of Taekwoon’s shirt as his knees wobbled. Taekwoon’s mouth was soft against his, and he kissed Wonshik like he was exploring him, learning him, and undoing him all at the same time. He whimpered at the sensation, unable to help himself when Taekwoon’s tongue swiped over his, and that made a low rumble reverberate from Taekwoon’s chest as he chuckled and drew back.

“Amazing,” Taekwoon said, and Wonshik could feel himself blushing right up to his hairline.

“W-why’d you do that?” he whispered. Taekwoon’s smile faded slightly as he brushed a strand of hair away from Wonshik’s face, his eyes searching.

“I came to warn you about the new project they have in the works. I’m being sent out on a brief scouting mission, but you have to be careful. They’re waiting for an opportunity to recruit you, and things might get messy.”

“You’re worried for me?” Wonshik asked, and Taekwoon knocked his knuckles against the side of Wonshik’s head in exasperation.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Wonshik had to duck his head at that, hiding a tiny smile. “Thanks,” he murmured, curling his hands around the sides of Taekwoon’s shirt. He felt Taekwoon pull him close again and tuck Wonshik’s face into the crook of his neck. Taekwoon smelled like a mixture of sweat, the rubber mats they used in the workout rooms, and for some reason, a soft hint of mint. Wonshik brushed his nose against Taekwoon’s Adam’s apple, and felt the other man shiver.

“Take care while I’m gone,” Taekwoon said. “I won’t forgive them if anything happens to you.”

“I will,” Wonshik hummed. “In return, you gotta do something for me though.”

“What is it?”

He closed his eyes as he spoke next.

“Come back alive.”

+

It figured they would come for him once Taekwoon left. Everything happened fast, and Wonshik was a little relieved that it did. His refusal to co-operate with the new project in the making, the one for genetically grown super soldiers, quickly landed him in an isolation cell at the very base of the compound.

If Wonshik thought his ceiling fans had been loud enough to make him go nuts, the numbing silence underground was truly menacing. The only consolation he had was the government’s own juvenile incompetence: once they realized Wonshik had erased huge parts of his research from the databases, they struggled to drag the new location of the research out of him. But threats of erasing the remaining data didn’t faze him, because Wonshik hadn’t been moving any of his research anywhere at all.

He’d been deleting them.

Hopefully, it would guarantee his safety in the future once the government figured out where all the research was stored now because with a brain as big as his, it wasn’t that difficult to memorize everything he’d trashed. Besides, Wonshik was the one who conceived the entirety of the ROVIX Program. What parent wouldn’t know their own child?

So he sat with his legs curled up against his chest on the cot, reviewing each line of code in his head as he stared blankly across the empty room. He wouldn’t give in.

He could not afford to give in.

+

Taekwoon returned after thirteen days and tore through the compound like a lion in search of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the part that wasn’t spinning with confusion at the sudden intrusion and rescue, Wonshik couldn’t help but feel a little gratified at just how deeply Taekwoon cared.

“Here,” Taekwoon muttered when they came to a halt right before the decontamination chamber. Wonshik could tell they were no longer in the underground, but he had no idea where they actually were, or where they were headed. He watched as Taekwoon retrieved something from the bulky travel pack he had strapped onto his back and pressed it into Wonshik’s startled hands.

It was a gas mask.

“Put it on,” Taekwoon advised, yanking his own over his head. “You’ll need it.”

“For what?” Wonshik asked, eyes wide. “Where are we going?”

Taekwoon helped him slide the tight material over his face and secure the straps. His hands found Wonshik’s wrist and tightened around it, cautious of how much power he was asserting with his right arm, and Wonshik’s heart stuttered at the gentleness of Taekwoon’s touch.

“We’re leaving this place,” Taekwoon finally said, one hand on the airlock and the other on Wonshik’s. “We’re going outside.”

+

His feet stumbled over uneven ground as they ran. Despite the dreary overcast and odd, night-like shadow looming over everything, Taekwoon seemed to know where he was going, and his grip on Wonshik’s wrist never broke away even when Wonshik fell and slipped over all sorts of things he couldn’t see.

He didn’t know how long they hurtled through the ruins for, but when the ragged remains of buildings and cracked roads gave way to dirt paths and sparse, petrified wood jutting out of rock solid earth, Wonshik had a feeling they’d lost any pursuers in the darkness.

Taekwoon slowed when they found a little alcove in a low valley and pulled Wonshik towards it, gesturing for him to sit. Wonshik collapsed gratefully on to the gritty ground close to Taekwoon, legs limp, not at all cut out for the sheer amount of physical activity that had just transpired.

The rubber edges of the mask were digging painfully into the soft flesh of his neck and jaw. Wonshik struggled momentarily with the straps before he finally managed to tear it off, panting heavily as he dropped the bulky object onto his lap.

He could immediately tell why he needed to wear the mask outside. Within seconds of removing it, his lungs burned at the assault of acrid air and his eyes watered at the sheer amount of pollution and chemicals surrounding them. It smelled disgusting, and Wonshik could practically feel his skin prickling at the toxicity and waste in the atmosphere. But just for now, he knew he wanted to experience the world beyond the sterile undergrounds of the government sector he’d been confined in for so long.

He tilted his head back against Taekwoon’s chest and closed his eyes. He felt Taekwoon’s hand fumble downwards and grasp his hand tightly, anchoring him. Far up above them, heavy clouds rolled across the skies and crashed into each other. It was open, far more open than any high-ceilinged lab could ever be.

And in that moment, Wonshik had the faith that he could finally live.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> only two more stories left for this series, woo! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و )))


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